Vanin and the others were outside a stable beside a stone building that had surely been an inn once. Aes Sedai streamed in and out of it now. Pips and the rest of their horses were tied to a hitching rail, and Vanin and the two scouts who had been captured were squatting against the wall. Mar and Ladwin were as different as men could be, one tall, lanky and rough-faced, the other short, stocky and mild-seeming, but both looked plain embarrassed when Mat walked up. Neither had gotten over the ease of his capture. The two squadmen stood stiffly, still holding the banners tight against their staffs as if there was any point to it now. They looked more than a little apprehensive. A battle was one thing; all these Aes Sedai were quite another. A man had a chance in battle. There were two Warders watching them. Not openly, and from across the stableyard, but they had not just picked that spot, standing in the full sun, to talk.

Mat stroked Pips’ nose, then after a moment began to examine the horse’s eyes. A fellow in a leather vest came out of the stable, shoving a dung barrow up the street. Vanin walked over to peer into Pips’ eye. Not looking at him, Mat said, “Could you reach the Band?”

“Maybe.” Vanin frowned and lifted Pips’ eyelid. “With a little luck, maybe. Hate to leave my horse, though.”

Mat nodded, looking closer at the eye. “Tell Talmanes I said to sit tight. I may be staying here a few days, and I don’t want any bloody attempted rescue. Try to make it back here. Without being seen, if you can.”

Vanin spat into the dust under Pips. “Man mixes with Aes Sedai, he’s bridled himself and put a saddle on his back. I’ll be back when I can.” Shaking his head, he strolled off into the crowd, a fat rumpled man with a rolling walk who no one could suspect of being able to sneak.

One of the squadmen cleared his throat hesitantly and stepped closer. “My Lord, is everything . . . ? This is what you planned, isn’t it, my Lord?”